Watch Me Drown

3. Tired

(Julien's point of view)

A few days later

"I'm home!" I announced when I walked through the apartment door.

Dorothea ran up to me, jumping, but only reaching my thighs in true corgi fashion. I set the groceries on the counter, then walked to the office. Normally, I found Abby sitting at the white piano, squinting at sheet music. But she wasn't there. I went to the bedroom, and found her still asleep.

I climbed onto the bed carefully and laid down beside her. I gently pushed her hair from her face to kiss her forehead. She groaned and pulled the blankets up to her nose.

"Sleeping late, my love?" I asked quietly.

"Tired." She mumbled.

Dorothea started yapping, so I leaned over and picked her up.

"Be calm," I told her.

I set her down on the bed and she waddled over to Abby, then licked her cheek. Abby laughed and rolled onto her back. Dorothea plopped down on her stomach. They were best friends.

"I gotta put away the groceries," I said, starting to get up.

"You already went?" Abby questioned.

"Yeah. You slept pretty late."

"Dammit," She looked down at the dog. "Sorry, girlfriend, but I gotta move."

I left her to get ready. After I put the groceries away, I made her some breakfast. While she ate we talked about what we wanted to get done today. She had been learning a new song on piano, so she dedicated the morning to getting it down, then we took Dorothea for a walk, and Abby returned to her beloved piano when we got back.

I was sitting on the couch, scrolling through social media, when she came into the living room and flopped down beside me, face down.

"Well, hello." I chuckled, putting my phone down. "You okay?"

"Just tired," She wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled herself up to rest on my chest.

"Wanna watch a movie or something?" I asked.

"Sure."

"Your choice. I feel indecisive."

"Hm."

Abby ended up picking "Miss Americana", the documentary about Taylor Swift. It looked like she could barely keep her eyes open soon after we started it. When it was over, I looked down at her, now asleep. Why was she so tired?

I pressed my hand to her forehead, but it didn't feel like she had a fever. She hadn't been coughing. God, I hoped it wasn't the stomach flu. However, she wasn't pale or sweaty. I touched her hand, which was gripping the fabric of my shirt. It was cold, yet her hands were always cold, and it didn't feel any different than normal. I worriedly checked her pulse; good news, she was alive.

A few minutes later, I turned the TV back on and watched the news. I really didn't want to wake her, so maybe a little background noise could. She would sleep horribly if she napped, she told me once. I didn't want her to sleep horribly.

"Did they write 'ME!' yet?" Abby asked, sluggish. She knew the movie by heart, and it was probably one of her favorites, which was a little strange, given that she loved fiction. Swifties.

"You missed the ending, honey," I responded.

"Didn't wanna cry today anyways," She shrugged, and closed her eyes again.

"Hey," I kissed her nose. "What song are you trying to learn?"

"'Apocalypse' by Cigarettes After Sex. It's hard, though, because in the song it's not on the piano, so now it sounds weird."

"Can I hear?"

"Sure."

She rubbed her eyes as I pulled her off the couch. We went into the office and I turned my rolling desk chair around to face the piano, where she was already sitting. There was a bookcase on the left side of the piano that held all our vinyl and CDs, ranging from country to pop to rock. On the other side there was a small table that held this giant thing that played records, CDs, and cassettes. Lucy and Phoebe had gifted it to us when we bought the apartment.

Dorothea followed us in and Abby let her sit on the piano stool with her. She placed the sheet music in its place and cleared her throat, then started to play.

"You leapt from crumbling bridges, watching cityscapes turn to dust," She sang softly. "Filming helicopters crashing in the ocean from way above..."

I think I could listen to her sing forever. She had this unique voice, a kind that I had never heard before. It was so soft and gentle, never shaking when she belted. Even when she took a breath between lyrics it sounded angelic. When we first met, she was pretty shy about it, but when I discovered her talent, I encouraged her to share it with the world somehow.

After a lot of convincing, Abby started her YouTube channel, where she covered songs. She had gained quite the following. Thousands of people watched her weekly updates, recommending songs and complimenting her. She'd had me in some of them, doing duets or letting me sing one of my songs while she played the piano. She had Phoebe and Lucy do some too. It was safe to say that we all loved it.

"Your lips, my lips, apocalypse," Abby smiled as she sang. "Your lips, my lips, apocalypse..."

I lip synced along with her. She listened to the song so much that I knew most of it. Plus it's an amazing song.

"Got the music in you, baby, tell me why," She glanced back at me, her eyes all lit up.

I grinned at her. She was so beautiful when she sang. She looked so genuinely happy, her perfectly glossed lips always curving up.

Abby stopped playing after the slow descent, before jumping back into it, nailing how it happened in the melody. "When you're all alone, I will reach for you. When you're feeling low, I will be there too."

After a few seconds of piano, she stopped smoothly. I stood up and clapped. She smiled, catching her breath.

"That was incredible, Abby," I said as I sat back down. "It doesn't sound weird at all!"

"Yeah, you're right," She nodded. "Will you help me set up? I want to make a video."

When she was all ready, I kissed her forehead and left the room, Dorothea staying behind. While she did that, her voice echoing through our home, I started making dinner.